I’m a follower of Neil Young, a Rustie, and a diehard fan. I’ve tracked his career for over 50 years, both as a fan and more recently, photojournalist.
Over the years, I’ve come to appreciate the changes in his life and their profound effect on his music: from Topanga Canyon rocker to sensitive singer-songwriter, blues and rockabilly persona to grunge demigod. Those are merely labels, though, hiding the true meaning behind Young’s music: serving the song. Always serve the song. (Or as Neil says, “It’s all one song!”)
Young’s minimalist approach and ethos exemplifies the notion of serving the song, the idea that each instrument is adding to a song’s impact, that no one player is overshadowing the melody, and that ego takes a backseat. Young is famous for his one take recordings. “Like a Hurricane” was recorded when Frank Sampedro (Crazy Horse’s rhythm guitarist) switched to a 1974 Crumar Univox Stringman Synthesizer and the sound, and song, essentially fell into place. Apparently, Neil said afterward, "Yeah, that's how it goes, I think. That's it."
Now, no one has ever suspected that Neil Young has no ego where his music is concerned (after all, he resisted the touring musician role initially offered him, insisting instead that Y be added to CSN) but, whether on acoustic or electric guitar, he plays with intention, forethought, and spontaneity. In other words, he serves the song.
“I have melodies, and I have a sense of rhythm and drive. But it’s not about me, anyway—it’s about the whole band. It’s about everybody being there at once. When I play, I’m listening for everything, trying to drive it all with my guitar. My guitar is the whole fucking band."
I love the raw power of Neil Young’s guitar playing, how he wrenches melody, feedback, and good, old-fashioned noise from Old Black, the 1953 Gibson Les Paul Goldtop that’s been his primary electric guitar for over a half century. Almost all his guitar epics (E.g. “Like a Hurricane,” “Hey Hey, My My (Into the Black),” “Cortez the Killer,” among others) were recorded with Old Black. It’s his guitar of choice when he performs “plugged.” Although Neil is not known for his technical playing ability (like, say, Hendrix, Beck, or Page), his guitar solos can nonetheless produce sonic mayhem that’s been compared to a “jet plane in a thunderstorm.” Lately, though, I’ve been thinking about that one-note solo on “Cinnamon Girl.”
The opening track on Neil’s second solo album, Everybody Knows This is Nowhere, “Cinnamon Girl” encompasses all those themes about which Neil has long written: love, longing, mystery, dreams, girls, sex, music, the moon, the road. And it’s all contained in that explosive musical package with a hook and a melody that you just can't get out of your head. Played in Drop-D tuning, you hang on every lyrical and musical phrase waiting for the release of that ascending guitar riff followed by its descent down to that wonderful F-G power chord.
Some songs have that moment where you arrive at a chord change, a lyric, or a note that “makes” the song. “Layla” has Duane’s incredible guitar riff, “Ticket to Ride” has Lennon’s sigh on the final chorus. “Cinnamon Girl” has two such moments: the first that climactic “You see your baby loves to dance, yeah, yeah, yeah” and the second that wonderful “whooooh!!!!” and the rush into that sublime one note solo.
“People say that it is a solo with only one note but, in my head, each one of those notes is different. The more you get into it, the more you hear the differences."
Serving the song.
I mentioned “Layla” and Ticket to Ride,” but examples abound where the featured player and/or solo becomes an integral part of the song: Larry Carlton’s solo on Steely Dan’s “Third World Man,” Raphael Ravenscroft’s sax on the 1978 Gerry Raffety hit, “Baker Street,” or even Eddie Van Halen’s contributions to Michael Jackson’s “Beat It.” Admit it, now that I’ve mentioned them, you can’t unhear those songs in your head. Those solos, as distinctive as they are, bring you right back to the song itself.
Which bring me to one of the most iconic solos of all time: “While My Guitar Gently Weeps.” Eric Clapton’s solo on the original recording nests perfectly within Harrison’s vocals and lead guitar but I’m actually referring to Prince’s take on the song at the 2004 Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Induction Ceremonies.
Watch Prince’s 2004 performance of “While My Guitar Gently Weeps” (re-edited by the original director, Joel Gallen) with Tom Petty, Jeff Lynne, Steve Winwood, and Dhani Harrison (among others):
I’ve long been in awe of how Prince’s solo lifts the song’s performance into the stratosphere, the genuine fun he seems to share with Petty, Harrison, and the rest of the band, and the exuberating showmanship of tossing his guitar toward the heavens. But I’ve come to regard that performance as Prince making the song all about himself; the exact opposite of serving the song. That’s not a criticism but rather, simply an observation. For contrast, here’s Prince serving the song.
I’m a (poor) guitar player and solos fascinate and captivate me, whether they serve the song or not. That live version of the triple guitar solo attack on Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “Freebird” is a wonder to behold. The soloing on Steely Dan’s second album, Countdown to Ecstasy is some of the finest guitar work I’ve ever heard. And, of course, Jimmy Page’s work with Led Zeppelin throughout the 1970s is masterful. Very rarely though do we remember the solo, instead recalling the song and how it made us feel.
“Everyone says that, but there’s about a hundred notes in there. And every one of them is different. Every single one. They just happen to have the same name…You know, I just thought I was playing the right solo. I mean, can you imagine anything else in there? Like, some fucking fast-note thing. Who needs that? it's rhythm."
Remember that. The next time a bandleader says, “Again, this time with feeling,” they’re talking about the song, not the solo.
More later.
Nice piece. The Layla riff was taken from an Albert King song:
“You know what? That riff is a direct lift from an Albert King song. And I don’t have to pay royalties because . . . [He hums the riff.] Hmmm, maybe I do [laughs]. It’s a song off the Born Under a Bad Sign album ["As the Years Go Passing By"]. It goes, There is nothing I can do/If you leave me here to cry. It’s a slow blues. We took that line and speeded it up.
- Eric Clapton, interview 1988 http://12bar.de/cms/albums/layla/
According to Lynyrd Skynyrd's then producer Al Kooper, the band actually wrote out their solos to make sure the parts didn't clash and went well together. Similarly, Duane and Dickie Betts worked out a lot of their duo parts ahead of time with Allman finding the notes to compliment Betts' already written lines. Neil and Stills did a bit of that as well on electrics - CSNY's live versions of Southern Man are a good example.
Another excellent piece, Mark. I remember countless hours hanging out with you back in high school, listening to so much good music. You deepened my appreciation for Yes, Neil Young, Steven Stills, Zep, and many other great 70's artists.
So glad you included the video of Prince, Petty, and Harrison- I only "discovered" it a few months ago, and I agree; it is a fabulous reimagination of a perfectly wonderful original tune. And Yes, I still get goosebumps every time I listen to Steve Howe's incredible guitar solos bringing Starship Trooper to an orgasmic finale on Yessongs. (Listening to Yessongs right now.) Happy 4/20, Mark!